FROM THE SAME DIRT ▹ seresin ✓

ii. i always run away

Kade nervously glanced across her kneetops to the hanger cover waiting on the back of her door. It had been there when she came back from The Hard Deck last night, waiting in the dark like a monster. It stared at her all night, taunting her, intimidating her. Kade unsteadily got to her feet, lumbered across her bedroom, and carefully unzipped the covering. Her breath tripped out of her lungs at what was beneath. Her khakis. Pressed and cleaned, looking as new as the day she first received them.

A note was stuck to the cover, reading:

For your fresh start. I know you'll make me proud. — Dad

Breath catching, Kade tore off the note and shoved it to the very bottom of her trash can as if this could shove it to the back of her mind. Shedding her heavy long—sleeve that she wore for sleep, she took a deep breath and began dressing in what she once wore nearly every day.

It still fit; in fact, it was a bit loose on her. She had lost weight since her flying days, all the muscle and healthy fat was long gone. With her history, it was no wonder she was fighting to reach a hundred pounds. She was working hard on getting it all back; exercise was a good part of therapy, apparently.

Kade roughly dragged her brush through the tangled snarls of her hair once, twice, three times, then four out of nervous desperation. Then, after running her nails along her scalp and smoothing her part with gel, she twisted her hair into that same tight regulation bun. Her hands moved purely out of muscle memory; she barely had time to remember the process.

She ignored the mirror on the way out.

Kade crept down the stairs, trying to remember how to breathe — in and out, in and out. She turned the corner and found her family already waiting for her. Everything and everyone stopped at the sight of her, silverware hitting plates and glasses hitting table. She could've sworn she saw her father's eyes shine a bit brighter before she quickly looked away.

Tommy blurted, "Holy sh—t."

Holy sh—t was right. Normally, her parents didn't approve of language at the table, especially around Finch, but everyone was far too distracted by this strange new creature who just entered the kitchen to even notice.

Unsure of where to look or what to say, Kade squirmed a little, "Doesn't fit right."

"No, it's perfect." Sarah murmured softly, stepping closer with her fingers pressed to her smiling lips, "There she is, there's my baby — my proud, confident, brilliant baby girl..."

"They're just clothes, Mom."

"I know. You're just finally looking like yourself again."

Her chest filled with butterflies, circling around the cold remnants of her heart.

"Mommy." Finch's nose scrunched, "You look weird."

Kade cracked a smile.

Everyone else let out startled breaths that sounded halfway amused and halfway nervous as hell.

"I'm right there with you, Finch," her youngest brother joined in a bit too eagerly, voice less sweet than his counterpart's, "She does look weird."

"Reece..." Sarah scolded while Tom tapped his shoulder disapprovingly.

"What? Finch said it first."

"Finch is also five years old."

"Plus she's cuter than you," Kade informed him snidely before kissing the top of her daughter's head and taking her usual seat beside her.

Her youngest brother stuck his tongue out before even realizing it. He quickly stopped and dropped his head back to his plate. This action was not allowed. It was too... brotherly. Too familiar. He had forgotten he was angry at her. When she subtly peeked over, Tommy wouldn't even look at her.